Watch
by Cariad
Summary: Bones has a thing about Booth's arms...


**Disclaimer **- Bones and all it's lovely characters belong to someone else.

**A/N** - It's always a bad sign when an author's note apologises for the story before you get to it. So I won't. But I will warn you that this is a bit odd; short and odd. It was inspired - if that's the right word - by a delicious photo of DB in a tight t-shirt and wearing a sizable watch that BonesDBChippie e-mailed me.

* * *

Temperance was sitting in her office staring intently at the magazine lying on her desk. 

Her elbows were resting on the table and her forearms and wrists were pressed together, her chin resting in her palms. She tilted her head slightly to examine the image from a slightly different angle oblivious to anything else around her.

Booth stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, the other shoved into his pocket. He took a moment just to watch her and the unusual intensity with which she was studying the document on her desk.

Then he cleared his throat, "Morning Bones."

She looked up with a start.

Booth grinned and moved into the room, surprised to see her close the document with an embarrassed air.

"What ya looking at?" He asked curiously as he slumped down on the chair in front of her desk.

"Just a magazine." She said quickly.

Booth raised an eyebrow quizzically and leant forward, "Just a magazine..." He paused the said, "Then why the rapid shut and furtive looks?"

"I did not look furtive!" She retorted, folding her arms and sitting back.

Booth tilted his head.

"Fine." She said shortly and picked up the magazine - Archaeology Today - and waved it at him.

"What, is that like squint porn?" Booth asked.

Temperance was momentarily stunned into silence, before she exclaimed "What?"

Booth hesitated for a moment and then grinned, "Well, it's just the way you hid it earlier, it was just like when... you know..." He paused and flushed slightly, "Never mind..."

Temperance glared at him and tossed the magazine across the desk. "Flick through it Booth, I doubt you'll find anything titillating in there."

He glanced at the magazine which had fallen open on the page that Temperance had been studying. It was a full page image of a pair of intricately engraved segmented armguards, with a caption noting further evidence of their occasional use by Roman heavy infantry.

Booth shook his head and then sat back to peel off his leather jacket, revealing a tight, dark t-shirt.

Temperance raised an eyebrow, "Very casual Agent Booth. This a new look for the FBI?"

"Very funny. I'm supposed to have the day off, but I've been dragged in for a case..." He retorted.

"Which, I assume, is why you're cluttering up my office." She stated with deceptive sweetness.

"Yup." He leant forward to rest his elbow on the edge of her desk, propping his head in his hand.

He was about to carry on speaking when he realised that she was staring at his forearm in rapt fascination.

She licked her lips slowly.

"Bones!"

"Huh" She looked up at him, a little wild-eyed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked swivelling his elbow on the desk and rotating his forearm as he searched for the right words. "You seem a little... out of it."

Her gaze had shifted back to his arm again, so he found himself looking at it too. It looked the same as always: tanned, muscular - like an arm. Then he realised that she probably hadn't seen his new watch. It had a broad, four inch brown leather base, which the oversized dial sat within.

He frowned, "What, don't you like the watch?"

Temperance looked at him distractedly and then breathed out, "No - I love the watch." The second part of her sentence was so quiet that he wasn't sure if he'd heard her correctly, "It shows off your arm."

"Oh...Kay." Booth said slowly, snatching his arm back and folding it against his chest.

His movement seemed to bring Temperance back to herself. After looking horrified for a second, she recovered and smiled brightly, "So what's the case about?"

Booth eyed her suspiciously for a few moments wondering if he was the one who was tripping out and then he shrugged, "Well, the body's on its way over, but the word is..."

* * *


End file.
